


Of this we did not know

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [41]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair snores, Blanket-hog Warden, F/M, Fights, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Making Up, Relationship Advice, Slow Romance, Winter, except not, these kids are clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Alistair snores.  Caitwyn Tabris is a blanket hog.  The dog can’t be made to leave the tent.  Oh, and winter is getting worse, but these kids are more focused on just getting a good nights sleep again.Note: this series is fully drafted!  Sunday updates weekly until we hit the end.  Many thanks to everyone who reads, leaves kudos, and comments.  💖





	Of this we did not know

The burr of a snore filled the tent. Caitwyn stared up at the darkness under the canvas and contemplated murder. It’d be so easy. Just press a pillow over his face, then she could  _ sleep _ . Not even Maethor snored so badly, and he was a  _ dog _ .

She sat up, drawing the blanket around her shoulders, and glared down at Alistair's blithely sleeping face. His mouth hung open, making a little sigh every time he breathed out. But when he breathed in his whole face was transformed into a terrible producer of a noise so horrible she wondered how she’d managed to sleep before they’d gotten tents and had all huddled around a campfire for warmth at night.

Maybe if she just glared at him he’d sense it and wake up so she could go back to sleep. No, that was stupid, and she shook her head to try to clear it. 

“I love him, I love him, I love him.” The whispered mantra soothed her instinct to remove the cause of her sleeplessness. Caitwyn flopped back down on the pile of blankets. It had started off so well, sharing a tent. A little awkward, a little strange, but  _ nice _ . Good. He’d held her close, and she’d felt  _ safe _ .

Alistair shifted in his sleep, one arm flopping across her middle. He cuddled close, nuzzling into her short hair with a happy sigh. Her anger melted a touch, and she slowly eased back toward sleep.

Then another snore ripped right into her ear.

She whimpered and prayed for the dawn.

* * *

Soldier’s Peak passed by Caitwyn’s exhausted eyes in a confusing blur of demons, ghosts, impossibly ancient mages, and things she knew she should try better to understand. The motivation to do more than clear out the remnant of Sophia Dryden escaped her, and why she allowed the old mage to keep at his work was unclear. Maybe the very concept of a cure would have held more meaning if her mouth wasn’t fuzzy or her eyelids didn’t weigh a thousand pounds.

With a sigh, she sat on her heels after talking to Levi. The passes through these somewhat small mountains had been turned out to be pointless. Uninhabitable keep, winter howling over the land, and sleepless. Then a pale, slim hand appeared in front of her face, a small black ball cradled in the palm. Caitwyn frowned, a memory tugging at her, the images of plants and names together a thing she’d learned fleeing Ostgar a thousand years ago.

Or that’s what it felt like.

“Elfroot and dawn lotus for headaches, with a bit of molasses to bind,” she recited.

“Twas not a test.” Morrigan waved the remedy in front of her face, and Caitwyn took it. It was sticky and a strange kind of bitter-sweet that lingered in the bits sticking to her teeth. “ _ However _ ,” the derision in Morrigan’s tone was clear, and bright yellow eyes glanced to where Alistair and Sten picked over Levi’s meagre store of arms and armor. “A lesson is perhaps in store. You need not  _ stay _ with a man after you lie with him. Was this never made clear to you?”

“What?” she tried to say, though it came out muddled thanks to the sticky remedy practically gluing her mouth shut at this point. Brain and mouth were both full of treacle now.

Morrigan regarded her with the idle curiosity of a cat. “Did you not have anyone explain certain matters to you? How odd. My mother, for her many faults, was very clear on some things. You may take your pleasure and leave.”

Caitwyn coughed as she swallowed the medicine, eyes watering and face flaming. The coughing wouldn’t stop, and Morrigan sighed with put upon concern. She slammed her open palm hard against Caitwyn’s back, driving the air from her lungs. The ball of medicine shot out of her throat and landed, a black gob on white snow.

Her throat burned, and she drank a hearty swallow of water. Morrigan kicked some snow over the failed remedy and shook her head.

“It has not escaped my notice that you have not been sleeping well, and it is most likely due to your sleeping arrangements. Would it not be more prudent to ensure that you are well rested? I cannot imagine wishing to sleep with another so close by.”

Caitwyn didn’t point out that for a time she had slept close by to Morrigan, when there had been a need for a refuge from the demons the Deep Roads had stirred up. 

“Morrigan it’s not like that,” she said slowly, trying to make her thoughts come in order. 

“Oh, then what is it like?”

“We’re not. I mean—we’re  _ just _ sleeping.” Then she frowned and muttered darkly, “Well, he is.”

The other woman’s face scrunched up in obvious confusion. “Whatever for?”

Caitwyn hung her head and sighed. Maybe she could nap to get out of the rest of this conversation.

* * *

Alistair woke with a gasp, his whole body curled up tight. Not a single blanket covered him. With two people—two people and one  _ dog _ —in the tent, his breath didn’t steam but it was winter and the persistent chill prickled his skin. The dark of the tent wasn’t absolute, and he could just make out Cait’s hair sticking up out of a bundle of blankets. A bundle of  _ all _ the blankets.

Carefully, he sought the edge of the blankets. Just one edge, and he could pull a little bit free. Better a little blanket than none. 

“Alright, Cait,” he whispered, “Not trying to wake you but.” He caught the edge by his fingertips, but Cait hadn’t moved. She was such a light sleeper, and he didn’t want to wake her up. He tugged ever so slightly, and a bit of blanket unwound from her cocoon. 

Cait grumbled softly, rocked toward him—she was so beautiful, his breath caught and he drank in the sight of her in the dark sleeping next to him,  _ him _ !—then rolled away, tightening the blankets around herself. His jaw hung slack for a moment before he renewed his efforts to procure some blankets for himself. But every time he thought he got an edge, she would roll or huddle, and the blankets stayed out of his reach.

Chin his hands, he could only stare at the tiny form of the woman he loved, somehow as solid and weighty as Shale now that she was asleep and defending the blankets from him. That’s what she was doing! She was hogging the blankets, and it was cruel and mean, and no! Alistair, he told himself sternly, she’s asleep. It's not like she  _ set out _ to deprive him. 

She wouldn’t.

Defeated, he resorted to wearing every scrap of clothing he had and stuffing his feet into his boots. Arms crossed and curled up on his side, facing away from Cait who he couldn’t stand to look at right then, he wondered if he could shiver himself warm. Then a heavy form flopped down beside him and a giant tounge licked his face.

“At least  _ you _ can share blankets.”

Maethor snorted and pressed his warm bulk close. It wasn’t Cait, but it was better than shivering the whole night.

At least until Maethor started snoring right in his ear.

* * *

A fire crackled in the hearth, and Alistair held his hands out to it. The warmth made him want to close his eyes, and already his head kept falling to his chest. It was so cozy here. The abandoned farmstead Leliana had found—overlooked by bandits, beasts, and darkspawn all—was exactly what they needed to ride out the worst of winter. Every day was harder going, and Bodhan’s cart was more a liability than a source of goods in this season.

The touch of a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his doze.

“What’s it? We under attack?” His sword, he needed his sword, but it was far away.

“No, Alistair,” Leliana said grinning. “We’re picking rooms. I thought you should be awake for that.”

“Oh, well, right. Should do that.” The others poked through the house, dinner cleared away by someone not him for once. Hauling himself to his feet, he took in the large hall. It served as a mix of meeting hall, dining hall, and lounge, with a heavy trestle table shoved against the far wall and fur covered chairs set around the hearth. 

He blinked a few times to try to kick his brain into motion.

“Ah! I believe I have found my room!” Zevran called, delight clear in his tone.

“Zevran, that’s the master’s bedroom,” Leliana scolded. “Surely that should be for—”

Several pairs of eyes fixed on him and then turned to Cait, who was halfway up the stairs. She froze like a wild animal, unnaturally still. 

Shale, unconcerned by the awkwardness, tested the staircase, making it groan under her weight. Quickly, Caitwyn turned and spoke, “Shale, don’t think we want to put these stairs to the test.”

“I will not be placed in a  _ common room _ , like some piece of decoration.”

“Course not. Come on, let’s find you a place all your own.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds much better than having to endure your, ugh, meal times.”

“Um, Cait,” he said softly as she passed him by. 

“Later, alright?” She offered him a brittle kind of smile, and he nodded. The golem and the girl departed. The door shut with a heavy thud, cutting off the icy blast of winter. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Alistair resisted the urge to sigh. He’d thought the whole sharing a tent thing had started well, but between Caitwyn’s tendency to steal the blankets and his snoring, neither of them had been sleeping well for days. 

That first night had been quiet and close, both of them dropping off to sleep. Her even breathing lulled him to sleep, and the clean water and lilac scent of her had filled his nose. The next morning they’d woken shyly, and he could still recall how she’d watched him from underneath her lashes. Her fingers had curled against his chest, and his heart had beat wildly. 

Now she left the tent as soon as she woke up, caging some kind of medicine from Morrigan, and he struggled to keep moving forward under sleep-inducing dreary, grey winter skies.

“Now  _ that _ would be prudent,” the witch mused. Like her thoughts were so vital to be voiced. “I shall investigate the grounds to find a place for myself.” Head high, the woman swept out like she was some kind of queen. Alistair rolled his eyes and gathered up his and Cait’s things under one arm and was halfway up the stairs when he realized he hadn’t asked if she’d wanted to share a room with him.

The way things were going, she probably didn’t.

“Alistair, you are blocking the staircase.” Wynne regarded him with amused blue eyes, and he shuffled backwards to let her reach the bottom.

“Sorry about that, been, uh, a bit tired lately.”

“Hm, I have noticed. Well, should you require any sleeping aids, I believe I could produce something for you. I’ve decided to stay on the first floor in what passed for a library here.” She smiled, all grandmotherly. He squinted at her. She was mocking him, he knew it.

“Right, well. Thank you. I should go.” He gestured at the upstairs inarticulately. “Pick a room.”

“Indeed, you want to ensure you have a good bed.” His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and Wynne’s smile turned winsome as she waved him along. He fled up the stairs to find only one room left. Or at least only one room with the door open.

It was the master’s room.

Eyes closed, his head thunked against the door jamb. “Thank you, Leliana, but in this case not helping.”

Still, there was nothing for it. He flung his pack and gear down on the far side of the room before setting Cait’s down on the left side of the rather large bed. She liked being on the left, so maybe she’d see it and realize he didn’t  _ mean _ to keep her awake with his snoring.

Then all that was left to do was wait. He sat heavily on the bed, and it sagged a little under his weight. Straw probably a bit musty, but he didn’t have the energy to refresh it now. If there was straw to be had at all. Still, it was comfortable, more comfortable than the frozen ground with the rocks and divots that had been his mattress since Ostagar.

Maker, that seems like ages ago, he thought staring up at the heavy wooden ceiling beams. So long ago, and so far away. When he’d first met Cait, her whole self contained and made to fit what everyone was asking of her. Duncan, Cailan, even himself. 

What would he say to himself then if he could? If he could call across time itself?

_ She’s just as scared as you are, you lumbering dolt _ .

_ She loves fruit, get her as much as you can. _

_ Treat her well, treat her kindly, treat her gently. _

_ Her smiles are rarer than gold and more precious. _

_ Fix your snoring problem  _ ** _right now!_ **

That was a good one, he thought as the world went out of focus and comfortably dark.

* * *

Caitwyn shook Alistair’s booted foot. He jerked awake with a snort, his hair sticking up at the back. Even exhausted, exhausted because of  _ his snoring _ , her fingers wanted to smooth back his hair. 

“I’m up! I’m up! Cait! Hi, um, sorry about assuming, I just—there were no more rooms left, and I brought your things up.” She fought to not rub at her temples. A spot behind her eyes trobbed.  _ He _ had treated himself to a little nap while she’d been getting Shale settled in the barn—it was bigger than the house and had birds to kill so therefore superior—and sharing a mug of tea with Morrigan in the quiet,  _ private _ laborer’s hut she’d claimed for herself. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.” The leaden note in her voice wasn’t intentional. She simply had no energy to put any inflection in her tone. All the same, Alistair's eyes flattened.

“Well, I did. So, you’re welcome.” He matched her dull tone and flung himself down on the bed with a huff. Shianni had done that, throwing tantrums by refusing to be moved.

“Look,” she sighed. “We’re both tired. Let’s just get some sleep. I found Wynne downstairs. She’s agreed to make dinner.”

“You sure you want to stay here with me? I’ll only keep you awake.” Now he sounded petulant! Like it was her fault she couldn’t sleep through his thunderous snoring. That he did  _ right in her ear _ . 

She bristled and glared at him, her tone clipped and sharp, “Can’t imagine why  _ you _ want to stay with  _ me _ ! If I’m such a blanket thief!”

“Oh! Oh, and your dog! Why is your dog always in the tent with us?” He sat up, hazel eyes underscored with dark, purplish bruises from a lack of sleep. 

“Don’t you bring Maethor into this,” she hissed. “He’s a good dog and he’s  _ adjusting _ . And if we’re going to bring up other things, what about your toenails?”

“Oh sweet Maker, what’s wrong with my toenails?”

“Do you  _ ever _ cut them? For Andraste’s sake, its like you have daggers on your feet!” Her lip curled. “And it’s disgusting besides.”

“Well, if I disgust you, why are you even with me?”

“Because I love you, you daft idiot!” Her shout rang through the house, eyes shut tight against the exhausted tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. 

“Say it louder, Warden! I don’t think the darkspawn heard!” Oghren bellowed. The chuckle that followed was worse. Caitwyn’s head hung in her hands and her shoulders shook.

“Cait, oh Cait, I love you too, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.” Alistair’s voice was suddenly soft, and his arms were around her, strong and solid and sure. With a sigh, she leaned into him, rubbing tired eyes with the heels of her palms.

“I’m sorry too, I’m just so  _ tired _ , and I wish I didn’t steal blankets—”

“Wish I didn’t snore—”

“And I wanted this to go well, because, well.  _ Because _ . But it’s not, and no one said this would be the hard part.”

“Huh, you’re right. None of those romance books talked about this part at all.”

“You read romance books?”

“Look, for a time anything that wasn’t the Chant of Light was good reading.”

A laugh bubbled up from below her stomach and tickled its way up her body until she couldn’t hold it in and collapsed against him in a helpless fit of giggles. In between gasping, laughing breaths, a few words made their way out. “Can see it… I can see it…”

“Aaaaaaaaaand, you’ve lost your mind. This is a sad day, because now I’m going to have to put you down.” He shook his head sorrowfully, which only made her laugh more. She was going mad. Absolutely around the bend. But she couldn’t  _ stop _ laughing. Without even a grunt of effort, he pulled her over the bed and pulled blankets up around her. His crooked smile lacked the brightness she was used to, and her heart sank when he slid off the bed.

Her hand caught his wrist, and he let her hold him back. “Where you going?”

“I’ll sleep in the common room. You need proper rest, Cait.”

“No, you should stay. We’ll, we’ll get used to each other.” He shook his head but leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. She grabbed hold of his ears to keep him from pulling away.

“Um, please can I have my ears back?”

“No. Keeping them. Mine.” 

“You’re going to make me stay here, aren’t you?”

“It’s not a complicated plan, but its working.”

“Alright, fine. You win.” He flopped down on top of her, all his considerable weight crushing her to the bed. The breath wooshed out of her lungs, and she nudged him sharply in the ribs. He chuckled and rolled onto the mattress. Lazily, he pulled her close, and she didn’t even point out they were still wearing their boots and their clothes. The bedding needed changing anyway, and that could be done later.

Another weight hit the mattress, and Caitwyn cracked open an eye to see Maethor snuffling for a spot. Alistair pushed himself up and attempted to shove the bulky dog away, but there was no appreciable effect on the dog who curled into a ball and wuffed contentedly. 

Her own contentment wrapped around her like another quilt when a knock from the doorway broke her away from the arms of sleep.

“Ah, my dear Wardens, I shall close your door, yes?” Alistair’s groan of despair was answer enough. Caitwyn couldn’t find the ability to speak past the embarrassment choking her throat. “Sleep well, Wardens, and if you wish to put on a show of a different sort, do let me know.”

The door clicked shut, and Caitwyn lobbed a pillow at it.

“Next time you snore, I’m going to tie him up here and deprive  _ him _ of sleep,” she muttered darkly.

“Snoring as a weapon? It has merits.”

She snorted and giggled, curling against his chest and eventually dipped into an exhausted sleep. At least if they kept each other awake, they didn’t have to go anywhere in the morning. Or the next or the next. No going anywhere until winter loosed its grip on the land. 

And maybe they really could get used to each other. Being a little bit tired now was worth the promise of sleeping in his arms for as long as she could hold onto him.


End file.
